Deathly Hallows Alternate Ending Number 32
by TwiLyght Sans Sparkles
Summary: Billy Mays hosts the most important infomercial of his life.


* * *

_Quick background on this one: Voldemort won the battle of Hogwarts and took over Britain, so Harry and Co. stole one of his horcruxes and fled to the US, where the order has been gaining support. _

_Oh, and if you don't know who Billy Mays is, you're not watching enough infomercials. :)_

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Harry?"

Harry Potter nodded. "I'm sure," he lied.

Elijah Flint, American President of Magic, leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I don't know about this. You do realize this will put the entire Muggle community in danger, don't you?"

"Not the entire community," Hermione cut in. "Just Billy Mays."

Elijah considered this for a long moment. Finally, he leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. "All right. Go ahead, then. But only if you're _sure _it'll work."

Harry almost backed out then and there, but Hermione spoke before he could. "It'll work, Mr. President."

Elijah dismissed them with a nod, and they headed for their rooms to don their Muggle clothes.

* * *

"What am I selling again?"

"A cleaning detergent, just like the stuff we have right here." Hermione held up a bottle of detergent, but Billy Mays waved it away.

"No, no, I mean, what's with this...._thing _I'm throwing in?" He squinted at the script. "The...cup of Helga Hufflepuff? Who the hell is that?" Hermione started to explain, but he jumped ahead. "And Lord Voldemort? What kind of parent names their kid Voldemort?"

"It's his surname," Ron said quickly. "He's a...a Scottish lord, and he's been looking for this cup. We're just helping him find it."

"All you have to do is stick to the script," Hermione said. "Stick to the script, and make sure the camera guy gets a good shot of the cup."

Billy sighed. "All right, I'll do it. Just be glad you're paying me."

* * *

Amycus Carrow hurried through the manor, running as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. By the time he reached the parlor, he was panting so hard he almost forgot to bow. "My lord," he huffed.

"Unless you've found Potter, Amycus, turn around and leave."

"I don't--know about--Potter--my lord....but we've found--the cup--of Hufflepuff--the one you were--looking for?"

Voldemort looked up sharply. "You've _found_ it? Where?"

"It's in--the United States--"

"_Where _in the United States, Amycus? I need details!"

"That's--sort of--the problem--my lord." He gulped the air before continuing. "We think--it's being held--hostage--"

"By who?"

Amycus paused, panting. "It's a...a...Muggle, my lord. A Muggle named Billy Mays."

* * *

Amycus had a copy of the infomercial, formatted to play by magic rather than electricity. Voldemort watched it from an armchair, though he was far from comfortable in it. If a Muggle had one of his horcruxes, things could only get worse.

"Here it is, my lord." Amycus tapped his wand, and the image of an eager-looking Muggle with a terrible beard appeared on the wall.

"Hi, Billy Mays here," the Muggle shouted, grinning broadly. "I want to tell you about my new product, Tom Riddle's Mess Remover!"

Voldemort's eyes widened, and he sat forward. How did a _Muggle_ know his old name?

"Tom Riddle's Mess Remover works on _any _surface, on _any _type of fabric, _anywhere_! Just watch as I pour it on this grape soda stain!" He poured a bit of liquid onto the stain, and it vanished almost instantly. "See? So effective, it's almost like magic! And it works on almost anything! Ketchup, grease, lipstick, blood--even gasoline! Tom Riddle's Mess Remover takes care of that mess so it's like it never even happened. But wait! There's more!"

"This is where he talks about the--" Amycus began, but Voldemort waved an end to his explanation. The Muggle was shouting again.

"If you call in the next ten minutes, we'll send you another bottle of Tom Riddle's Mess Remover absolutely FREE! That's a $40 value for just $19.99, plus shipping and handling. Plus, if your name is Lord Voldemort and you order four or more bottles of Tom Riddle's Mess Remover, we'll throw in the cup of Helga Hufflepuff! So pick up that phone, Voldemort! This is a call you can't afford _not _to make! Pick up the phone and call 1-800-487-3921, and tell 'em Billy sent ya!"

The image blinked off, and for a long moment, Voldemort was unable to move. Finally, he stood.

"Tell the others to pack their things, Amycus. We're going on a little trip."

* * *

Billy Mays walked out of the studio two days later, lost in thought. For the past two days, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the Tom Riddle's Mess Remover ad. This Lord Valumart or whoever he was obviously wanted the cup; what he didn't know was why. Ron Weasley's explanation--that they were simply helping him find a family heirloom--didn't hold water. The infomercial had all the trappings of a ransom note. On the other hand, a man named Elijah Flint had paid him quite a bit of money just for doing the infomercial, so he couldn't really complain.

He turned a corner. Before he could blink, someone had him by the collar and he found himself staring into a pair of cruel red eyes. Something warm and wooden pressed against his throat.

"Give me the cup, Muggle, and your death will be swift."

Billy swallowed. "I-I don't...don't have it...on me..."

The stranger shook him once. "Don't play games with me. Now, tell me where it is, or I swear you will feel such pain that you will spend every instant you refuse me longing for death."

"No need for that, Voldemort. I've got it right here."

Voldemort whirled around, but he didn't release Billy. "I knew you were behind this, Harry Potter. Hand it over, or this pathetic Muggle dies."

Harry looked down at the cup. "You know, this cup is pretty dirty....I'm sure you'd like it more if it weren't so tarnished."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "I said hand it over."

Harry held up a hand. "Hold on just a minute....let me clean it first." From his pocket he withdrew a bottle of Tom Riddle's Mess Remover and unscrewed the cap.

Suddenly, Voldemort realized what Harry was doing. Dropping Billy in a heap, he raced toward Potter. "Stop! Don't--"

Harry emptied the bottle into the cup and dropped it on the ground. It melted into black slime, releasing an anguished cry that was almost human. Grinning, he met Voldemort's gaze.

"Basilisk venom. Cleans just like magic."

"You...." Voldemort tried to grab Harry, but he turned and bolted in the opposite direction. Voldemort ran after him, and the chase was on. They ran through the streets, Harry barely a step ahead, dodging the curses Voldemort threw his way. Killing Curse after Killing Curse illuminated the night like flashes of green lightning, until Voldemort finally chased him into a dead end.

"There's nowhere left to run, Potter," Voldemort said, smiling. "I do believe I'll enjoy killing you even more the second time."

Harry faced him then, flashing a knowing smile. Voldemort looked at him in surprise.

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

Harry stepped out of the way as Voldemort fell forward, his limp body falling with a _thud. _He looked up.

"Thanks, Eli."

Elijah Flint saluted him, then jumped off the roof to the alley floor. He shook his head at Voldemort's body. "The Ministry's got nothing on me now."

Harry chuckled, but his answer was cut short as a very surprised Billy Mays appeared in the alley entrance. He looked from Harry to Voldemort to Elijah and back again.

"What just happened here?"

Elijah came forward and put a friendly hand on Billy's shoulder. "You just helped us save the world, that's what."

Billy looked at him in disbelief. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."

Elijah smiled. "Come with me, and I'll tell you everything."

* * *


End file.
